


Safety Razor

by Toft



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toft/pseuds/Toft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss has a fantasy. Written for the Kink Bingo Round 5 challenge, for the prompt 'shaving/depilation'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safety Razor

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to longwhitecoats and wychwood for beta.
> 
> Further warnings for: nightmare including dental stuff and being held down. Katniss is underage in some legal systems (16 or 17), but the sexual contact in this story takes place only in her fantasy.
> 
> This story is set somewhere around the beginning of Book II, "Catching Fire".

"We'll soon be there!' Effie says. "Katniss, have you shaved?"

They're moving towards yet another District stopping point. The train hasn't started to slow yet, but they've passed the first boundary fences, and Katniss has started to see signs, transmission posts, even a road.

"No," says Katniss. "They did it on Tuesday. You can't even see anything."

Effie tosses her hair and tuts. She reaches around, right over the chair leg, and rubs her finger up Katniss's calf. Katniss jerks her leg back and slaps her hand away. In the corner, Haymitch laughs. Katniss feels her face start to heat up.

"Touchy, touchy!" says Effie, her lips thinning. "Go. Shave. Or you'll ruin those lovely stockings Cinna gave you to go with that dress. You're like a savage down there."

"Hey," says Peeta hesitantly. "She doesn't have to -"

"You shave too!" snaps Effie. She narrows her eyes at him. "On second thoughts, you don't need to."

Haymitch guffaws this time, and his drink slops over the edge of his glass onto his pants. Effie throws up her hands, her curved nails and flared sleeves forming two perfect spiders in the air.

"You're all hopeless!"

Peeta marches off, his face bright red. He looks down at the floor as he passes Katniss, and she doesn't try to catch his eye. He's stiff around her in a way she's coming to recognise as shy, but it doesn't make it easier to talk to him. Probably most girls would like that he's always asking what she wants, now. Everyone's always saying what a sweet boy he is. On-camera, he takes her face in his big hands and presses his lips against hers in a way that sends hot, uncomfortable shivers down through her. Off-camera, he drops things and trips over himself trying to open doors for her and saying, "Do you want, uh - you don't have to -" 

Probably there's something wrong with Katniss inside that it makes her want to shake him instead. 

"I don't have any of the foam stuff," she says, when Peeta's gone.

Effie tuts. "In your bathroom cabinet, silly girl."

"In my bedroom?"

"Your _compartment_."

"Whatever."

"There'll be a test later!" Haymitch crows. Just before the doors slide closed behind her, she hears Effie rounding on him for a lecture, and she snorts.

*

In her compartment, she has a little closet-sized bathroom. In it, there's a basin that folds out of a panel when she presses the right button, and running water, that she thinks must come from a tank on the roof of the train. The brushed metal surfaces and dimmed light reminded her of the first place she saw in Panem, the big room where she was waxed, plucked and buffed until she was raw all over. They don't have anyone on the train to keep her as smooth and perfect as Effie wants, although she knows when they're coming to an important stopping point when Cinna comes onto the train to do their clothes and makeup.

The last time Cinna came onto the train, he gave her a tiny, pink plastic thing in a t-shape, with a metal strip inside it.

"Effie said you needed one," he said, smiling a little, as if he knew how stupid it was, and his eyes soft, as if he was sorry. Katniss smiled back, helpless. He's the only person since Prim who makes her want to smile. "It's a safety razor. For your legs."

It was the closest thing to a weapon she'd been allowed to touch since she left the arena; Katniss turned it over, figured out the plastic snap, and tested it against her thumb. It barely cut; useless as an arrowhead, or spearhead, let alone a knife. Cinna saw her expression, and laughed at her.

"Not all useful weapons have sharp edges, Katniss," he said. "Your body is a weapon, the way you look is a weapon. What else do you think these dresses are for?"

"I thought they were to make me look pretty."

"That's what I mean."

She caught her breath as Cinna pulled on a ribbon that tightened around her torso. He immediately let it go, and she could breathe again.

"Sorry!" he said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she snapped. "Why do you always do that?"

He took his hands away from her torso, and stepped away. "What?"

"Tell me I'm a weapon and stuff, and then treat me like I'm going to break! You can't hurt me with a ribbon. Unless you try to strangle me with it or something, but I could stop you."

"I know you could," he said, softly. Something in his face made her uncomfortable, so she looked away. 

"Katniss," he said finally. "Has anyone ever been kind to you?"

The silence stretched out between them. She clutched the safety razor in her fingers until they turned white.

"I didn't mean to yell at you," she mumbled, finally. 

"I know," he said. There was a little crease between his eyes, like when he was trying to work out a problem. "I'm not angry with you. I just - I forget you're not as young as you are on paper, sometimes. It must be frustrating for you. I'm sorry. Friends?"

He held out his hand. She took it, but he didn't shake, just clasped it in his warm fingers. She squeezed, not knowing what to do, and he stroked her wrist with his thumb, just once, then pulled his hand away, leaving a cold echo against her palm.

"You can tighten it as much as you want," she said, around the huskiness in her throat. "Just warn me first."

"Okay," he said. He stepped closer, and took hold of it again. His breath brushed her hair. "I'm tightening it now."

She took a breath, and held it. The fabric closed around her, shaping her into something else. Cinna stepped back. She swayed a little, her eyes sharpening with the blood rushing to her head. It felt like being in the arena, like adrenaline.

"Oh," Cinna breathed. "You're so beautiful. Spin."

She twirled, and smiled despite herself. 

He pressed his palm to his heart. In her heightened state, she thought the expression that crossed his face like a shadow was regret. "That's the weapon," he said. "You got me."

*

There's a fine brown stubble on her calves. She lays out a towel on the bed, and a pillow. She takes off her clothes, except for her bra and underthings. She sprays a gob of foam into her hand, and lathers her legs. 

She has a lot of different nightmares. Some are about the arena, some are about the wolves with children's faces where one of them is her sister, but the night after Cinna gave her the razor, she dreamed she was naked and strapped to a gurney in the training room in front of the judge's window. The judges were staring and were telling her through the intercom that her legs were too hairy for her to go into the arena, that she would be terminated immediately. She opened her mouth to scream, but her mouth was full of tooth-powder because an Avox was polishing her teeth, a woman with Effie's face. She coughed, choked, drowning in dry, sticky dust, and as she thrashed, she felt a needle prick her arm. She didn't wake up then. The worst part is when she doesn't wake up. But then - Cinna was there. Her mouth was empty suddenly, and she could talk. She screamed his name.

"I've got you," said Cinna quietly. He put his hand on her bare thigh, above the leather restraint, and it rested there, as he spoke to the judges. "I'll clean her up. She's fine."

Then they were all gone. Cinna smiled at her, and Katniss smiled back, feeling like she might burst at the seams with happiness. He stroked his finger up her leg, so that the stubble rasped against his skin, and the touch sent pleasurable electricity up her inner thighs. She jerked against the restraints, shocked, and woke up, sweating, her heart pounding, hot and slippery between her legs. Peeta mumbled in his sleep, and tried to put his arm over her. She rolled away. The red numbers on the clock showed she'd climbed in with him only an hour earlier.

"I'm going back to my room," she whispered, in case he was awake. By now, she could creep through the cold, silent train without fully waking up, while still watching out for Effie and Haymitch. She crawled into bed, rolled a section of the bedsheet and pulled it between her legs and rubbed, ground against it, not thinking anything, but the feeling was gone, she was too tired, and she fell asleep still tangled in the sheets.

*

The dream comes back to her now as she rubs the foam onto her legs. She's already cross, and it makes her rebellious. She lets her mind wander to Cinna. He's not here, and he won't know. She tries to recapture the the feeling when he came in and rescued her, like light, but it won't come that easily. She's never tried to remember her nightmares before; it's surprisingly difficult, like trying to catch a moth in your hand. She goes further back. She's on the gurney. She lets herself feel the fear and the panic again, little-by-little, just enough to make it realer. The rush of feeling when Cinna opens the door feels realer, the second time. "I've got you," he says. 

She can't recapture the feeling of his hand on her leg, but she bites her lip, and pushes on with the dream, making things up as she goes. He dismisses everybody, shuts the door behind them, and locks it. He smiles at her. She notices the gold eyeshadow, like she did when she first saw him, which makes his eyes seem greener and his eyelashes longer. Sitting on her towel in the train compartment, she finds herself smiling. The knot in her chest loosens up a little, and she takes a deep, full breath.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she imagines him saying. His voice warms her like embers on a cold night. "I'm going to do this for you, okay?"

"Okay," she mouths silently. She starts to shave herself, the scrape of the razor easily audible in the near-silent train, but in her mind, Cinna is doing it for her. The razor glides easily along in his hand, leaving her skin tingling in its wake, pushing a small mountain of foam and little bits of hair before it. Cinna runs a fingertip lightly over the naked, hairless skin that's left behind.

"That's perfect," he says, and smiles at her.

He wraps his fingers around her ankle and flexes her leg up to get the awkward places on her knee where he could cut her, if he wasn't careful, but his hands are strong and sure. "Let me know if I hurt you," he says. She lets her leg go a little limp in her own hand, and manipulates it like it's out of her control. The warm feeling gets stronger, until it's almost palpable, like a blanket settling over her skin. When she was little, she used to imagine stories to herself like this, and tell them to Prim at bedtime. Usually they involved food, though. She hasn't done it like this for a while, but she can feel it coming back, the skill of immersing herself until she can almost fool herself into believing what she's imagining, even into surprising herself. She can't talk too much, in fantasies like this, because it breaks her concentration to hear her own voice. But otherwise she's pretty good at it.

"You're so beautiful," he says. She feels her face starting to heat up, even though he's said it to her before, just like that, sincere enough that she could believe that he meant it. 

He begins to shave higher up her leg. She gets that light, hot feeling in her stomach now, almost shivery, but her hands don't shake if she concentrates. Cinna's wrists look very dark brown against her white thighs. They're thin wrists, delicate, even, for a man, but she's felt how strong he is, when he's turned her back and forth for a fitting so easily, as if she were a child. She'd never thought, before, that a man might make dresses for a living, but if she had, she wouldn't have thought he'd be strong. She presses her fingers down into her thigh, and watches white spread outward from her fingertips.

"Stay still, Katniss," she whispers. Then she lets those fingers glide up further, further, and skate over the crotch of her cotton underwear, just for a second. She gasps, in mock-surprise. Cinna looks up at her through his eyelashes.

"Time to rinse," he murmurs. She moves to the shower with his hand on the small of her back, and he pours water down over her thigh and calf, sluicing away the foam and stubble. She likes the way the warm water feels, cascading down over her sensitive bare skin. She feels shivery all over now, light-headed, and there's a pleasant feeling of anticipation running under her skin.

"Did you know that you blush when you look at me?" he says, and she feels her heart and stomach flip again. It feels good. She shakes her head at him, and lets her hair fall down over her cheeks to cover her eyes. He reaches up to brush it away with his wet fingers, leaving a trace of moisture on her cheek.

"Don't be shy," he says. "I know you're not afraid."

The friction of her panties as she raises her other leg feels good, and she wriggles a little while getting into position. He laughs softly, and runs one finger up the inner seam, making her squirm even more.

"We haven't finished yet," he says.

She makes herself go more slowly on her left leg, and she loses herself in the sound of the razor, its slow drag against her skin. Now she can tug a pillow between her legs, and the pressure as she shifts feels so good, but she can't rock against it without cutting herself. She catches her breath. Cinna laughs softly in her mind. "No moving, now, Katniss."

This time, he presses a kiss to her bare skin, just below her knee. After a moment's hesitation, she bends down to kiss her own knee, just to see what it would feel like. It's warm, soft. She imagines his mouth would be scratchier - maybe if she got a toothbrush? No, that's silly. She presses her wet, warm fingers there instead, and scratches herself lightly with her nails, so that shivers run up her leg. He shaves up and up her thigh, and this time dips his fingertip very lightly inside the elasticated band of her panties, slides his finger up a little higher to brush over her outer lips, over the hair there.

"Shall we shave you there too?" he says. He's laughing quietly, joking with her, but Katniss feels that shiver again that's almost like fear, except it leaves her feeling achy, almost hungry.

"No thanks," she whispers, too soft to hear herself.

He strokes one finger down over the front of her crotch, right over the spot which feels the best. She twitches, almost intentionally, and feels the sting as the razor jars against her. She doesn't care.

"Does that feel good?"

She breathes out, "Yes." The firm pressure of the pillow between her legs isn't enough, suddenly, and she rocks forward, just a little.

"Do that again," he says. She pushes forward against the pillow again, wriggles, and her lips pull back from her teeth with how good it feels.

She can't imagine what his face would look like, and for a moment she feels like she's losing the fantasy, but in a wild burst of creativity, she has him step behind her, so she can't see him. His hand cups her breast from behind. She catches her nipple between two fingers and squeezes experimentally, harder than she usually does. The almost-fear feeling catches her in the belly again, and she throws her head back, tries to imagine it resting against his shoulder, his breath against her ear. She rocks against the pillow rhythmically now, the fabric of her panties almost burning her with friction, the elastic cutting into her thigh crease. Oh, it feels so good. He presses up against her entirely, and she gasps again in faux-surprise as she feels the bulge in his pants against her behind. She's felt Peeta's against her leg once, by accident; hot, hard-but-not, an indistinct shape, so that she didn't realize what it was at first, but in her fantasy, it's obvious.

"I want you, Katniss," he whispers in her ear. She whimpers, and rocks harder. Letting the idea roll on over her, before she can think about it, he whispers, "Will you let me fuck you?"

She's heard him swear before, and the word shaped on her own mouth makes her start to come; hot shudders jar her as she pushes her crotch hard against the pillow. When it's finished, she unfolds herself and lies flat on the coverlet, smooth and relaxed. Idly, she thinks about it, what it would feel like. She imagines it would hurt. She imagines it would feel good. She pinches her inner thigh, hard, and coaxes another shudder out of herself as her mouth opens in a silent 'o'.

The soundless motion of the train is changing slightly as it slows. She'll need to go out soon. Her whole lower body feels tingly and sensitive, so the luxury of the coverlet is even more noticeable as she slides over the bed, and she rubs back and forth a few more times just to enjoy it, even as it makes something restless and angry shift inside her. She rubs moisturizer into her legs. She thinks about imagining Cinna doing it, but she suddenly doesn't want to think about him anymore; the almost-pain feeling has turned into something big and confusing. She washes and puts away the razor.

The cut on her thigh where she slipped stops bleeding pretty quickly. There's also a thin line of red below her knee. It's too fine for blood, but it tells her that the razor is getting dull. Too safe even for a safety razor. She could ask for another one, she supposes. But the moment is over, she's getting ready to go out again, and she's a little angry with herself already. So what if her door locks, and Cinna's nice to her, and she likes him, and it seems like Cinna likes her? It isn't safe to think about that. She knows better than that.

She doesn't put a band-aid on her leg. The sting will help her remember. The razor's a weapon, even if it isn't sharp, and you shouldn't play with weapons.


End file.
